The Restless Nights Series
by Temptress-Kitten17
Summary: Set mid-to-late Season 1 through to "The Sacrifice". Begins when Damon overhears Stefan and Elena *chokes on bile* making love, and his mind starts wandering. Self-pleasure and fantasy, you have been warned.
1. He Knows She Can Do Better Than That

Hello my loyal readers, before we get into the lemony dessert I've cooked up for you all today, I need to go over a few things first. If you love me, you'll hear me out…

So, I'm not sure if all of you have read my latest profile updates or not, but I just thought I'd let you all know that someone has decided they like my work so much that they felt they should just copy it as their own. And I do mean COPY, b/c this chick didn't even try to disguise the writing. You can read all about it on my website (linked as my homepage on my profile) as I got so mad last night that it's STILL up, that I just felt I had to do SOMETHING to make myself feel a little better (I don't, but up it will stay until I get my apology). Anyway, the short version is that on Saturday while I was moving into my new apartment (and dealing with enough stress as it was), this wonderful, loyal reader Toffeenutlatte sent me a message. She was notifying me of a story she'd come across called "Mine" by a writer named Fiore12. In this story, Damon is comforting Caroline after the events of "Kill or Be Killed" and…well, basically all of the kiss between Stefan/Caroline from Chapter 1 and the hot action between Damon/Elena from Chapter 4 of "All I Need" were stolen from me and used in her little story. NO reference to me was given. You can read all about her response to my "review", my response, the story (highlighted in the parts that she took) and of course the corresponding excerpts of my chapters, all on my website. Like I said before, I'm not playing around here. And I think it's clear by now that aside from wanting some naked Damon, I needed another way of getting everyone's attention who may not have received a message from Toffeenutlatte yet explaining my situation. So if you support my work, please head over to Fiore12's story and give her a piece of your mind. She only takes signed reviews, so getting my friends without accounts to go over there isn't going to work too well.

Thank you for your support,

Temptress Kitten.

PS. In light of these recent events, I dedicate this story to the following readers…

Toffeenutlatte: for alerting me to the plagiarism of my work and for being so helpful in getting the word out to everyone while I was without my internet this weekend.

LovexAndxFate: for always reviewing my work and for her review of the thief's story (yes, I am watching for those).

DomOx: for the amazing stories I got to read this weekend on my BlackBerry, in addition to the comment on "Mine".

NecroPrincess7: for her continued support and the review of that "story"

EtherealDemon: For not only leaving a comment to add to the hate mail that Fiore12 so justly deserves, but for also sending me a PM expressing her deepest sympathies.

Thank you to all for your continued support. You have no idea just how wonderful it feels to have so many people in my corner. I will never, ever forget it.

And now, on with the story!

Restless Night

Warning: This story contains graphic imagery of Damon in all his naked glory, enjoying his "alone-time" if you know what I mean ;) If for some reason you're offended by that, then don't read this one.

Oh, and I don't own Vampire Diaries, but consider the writing ALL MINE!

He could hear them; he could actually fucking hear them up there in Stefan's room! Every low moan; every squeak of the mattress; hell, every soft little gasp and sappy word of undying love was being picked up right now thanks to his super-sensitive vampire hearing. He should get out of here, go to the Grille and get fucking wasted until the sounds of his brother fucking (no, that would imply there was something more passionate going on, and St. Stefan wasn't capable of that kind of passion…_making love_ seemed more accurate here) out of his head. He heard a soft little whimper coming from _her_ and clenched his jaw tightly; he had no idea why this was killing him so much, but it was. Before Georgia, he'd been able to deal; probably because she hadn't been sleeping with his brother yet. Now, it was unbearable torture to hear her up there with him, making those soft little noises as his sainted little brother made sweet, tender love to her night after fucking night. He didn't even know why it bothered him so much; especially when Stefan had pulled that same shit with Katherine and he hadn't even batted an eye. Damon had been (_was_ _still_, he had to remind himself) in love with the fiery vampire temptress, regardless of the fact she was stringing both brothers along for her own amusement. Yet he had allowed her to have her way without once feeling the bile rise to his throat at the thought of her and his brother in bed together. Hadn't even reacted the night she'd decided she'd wanted them both at the same time, and he'd watched Stefan caress her so intimately and her respond to him in a way Damon had never seen her respond to _him_. No, he really didn't understand why he was feeling this way now; Elena wasn't his, never had been. She'd been _Stefan's_ girl from the very beginning, and had regarded Damon as nothing more than the sadistic older brother who killed people for fun. That was, until she'd saved his life. Until she'd shown she _cared_ about him.

Another gasp, another moan, this was getting ridiculous; he shouldn't want to hear this. But a part of him can't help torturing himself right now; knowing that if she were _his_…no, he can't think that. She's made her choice; she could have had him in Georgia if she'd only been willing to admit to him (and to herself) just why she'd bothered to save him. He can picture that look in her perfect brown eyes; so much like Katherine's, and yet hers have a light in them that warms his very soul (assuming he still has one; he was never very clear on that). They're back in the woods, and he's discovered the bitch (formerly known as Katherine) was never in the tomb; she never _cared_. But Elena does, even after everything he's done; after every desperate, violent attempt to bring back a woman who never really wanted him and was never really _there_, she cares. He doesn't know _why_ that matters to him, but it does. She looks at him, sadness and tenderness in those eyes of hers, and she comes toward him slowly; her arms are around him now, he breathes in the scent of her hair. He's broken, devoid of all feeling at the moment; numb, cold, lost. But her warmth and that nameless emotion surround him and though he gives no indication of it, he wants to lose himself in that warmth that she's giving him freely, without compulsion or fear. He realizes now, with perfect clarity, that he wants _her_; and he can't have her because she is dating his brother.

His mouth twitches up into that cocky smirk he's practically made his trademark; he may not be able to have her, but that didn't mean he couldn't fantasize about her. Besides, this was his house too, and he would be damned if he was about to let an opportunity like this go to waste. He could really only hear Elena anyway, since his brother wasn't the vocal type; how convenient for this particular occasion.

Damon's hands work quickly, divesting himself of his dark jeans and leaping onto the dark covers of his king-size bed. He doesn't bother to get under the blankets; no one would walk in on him anyway. Elena's moans of pleasure echo in his perfect ears as he closes his eyes, savoring the sound; he knows (he's not sure how, but he _knows_) she can get louder than that. If she were here with him right now, he'd do his damndest to make sure of that.

In his mind, he can picture her soft, pouty lips; he wishes he'd be allowed to taste them. He imagines she'd taste like a fine wine or perhaps even the darkest chocolate covered, juicy strawberry; sinfully erotic and achingly sweet at the same time. God, how he wants to feel those lips against his; to slide his fingers through that luxurious long dark hair and pull her close. He'd come so close to doing just that when she'd taken off her necklace, telling him to ask her if she was lying now. Just the softest touch, the warmth of her skin as he placed the necklace back around her throat, had been like touching fire; she burned him with the intensity of her eyes and the heat of her skin. He had heard her heart pounding in her chest, had heard her shallow breathing and could have sworn the air around her had smelled a little _sweeter_ as he'd moved in. The whole encounter was playing in his head like a movie, only in this version she bridged the gap between them. His mouth was on hers, her fingers tangled in his hair, and that lithe, perfect body of hers was pressed against him fully; he had her against the wall before she could even blink.

Damon felt the ache in his loins; his dick was unbelievably hard at the thought of Elena against that wall and he gripped it tightly. He squeezed his shaft, pumping it up and down as hard as he could to relieve the itch he'd started. Elena let out another little gasp and in his mind Damon trailed his lips down her neck; sucking and nipping at her sensitive flesh. Her nails raked his shoulders, frantically tearing at his shirt; he ground his hips into her, lifting her up so that he was pressing directly over that little bundle of nerves that made any woman go insane with pleasure when stroked _just right_. The Elena upstairs let out a little moan; but Damon was no longer aware of what was actually real. His hand squeezed his hard flesh, the head of his dick now so thick and swollen that the slightest brush of his thumb over it was driving him wild.

"Fuck…Elena," he moaned low in his throat, not caring if Stefan heard it; he wasn't even aware of Stefan right now, too lost in his own thoughts to give him any thought. Elena was writhing against him, moaning and crying his name in rapture as he feasted on her breasts like a man starved. He'd torn her shirt open at the neckline; her bra lay in a pile of shredded black lace on the floor. Her little hands were currently working him through the material of his jeans and he was moving them both over to a nearby table; she was getting him so worked up he couldn't even stand anymore. Her hands slipped inside, gripping his hard cock and pumping him hard; she pressed her thumb just under the head before lightly stroking over it. Fluid was already leaking from his tip, causing her to glide over him; he pulled his hips back, not wanting to come just yet.

"Damon, I want you," she said in his mind; her voice was breathy, full of _need_ and he could not deny her. Within seconds they were both naked; he sliced into her hot, wet, swollen body and she cried out at their union. "Oh, fuck, you're so…" she let out a loud, gasping cry as he pushed his hips upward to stroke that sweet spot inside her. He didn't need to know what she was about to say; he knew his size was a very pleasant surprise for her. It should be, after all, he knew Stefan could hardly claim to be better than him in _that_ department.

Another gasp, another moan; Damon worked furiously, his fingers practically digging into his flesh in time to Elena's cries upstairs. She was close, and so was he; he bucked his hips up into his hand, imagining it was her he was driving into. So hot; so tight; so wet; it was all he could think as he worked his cock in his hand. His other hand slid down to grip over the head, massaging with his palm as his other hand picked up the pace; pumping up and down in a rhythm that could only be considered vampire speed.

Elena screamed his name as he pumped into her at a maddening pace; her legs locking and convulsing in spasms around his hips. Her nails were clawing into his back, pulling him closer, wanting him _harder_; he gave her everything she asked for and more. She threw her head back, her chest heaving and her nipples puckering into tight little buds; goose-bumps were forming on her skin along with thin little beads of sweat.

"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" she screamed into his mind, her orgasm just a thrust away. And then she lifted her head; her eyes were burning with the fire of her passion. "Do it," she commanded, tilting her head to the side. He felt his vampire features emerging, but she didn't recoil from him; if anything she looked even more aroused. His head lowered, he pressed his lips to the side of her neck where her pulse was beating rapidly. She moaned, shivering beneath him. He held her close, slowing down the pace of his thrusts inside her; determined to make her _feel every inch of him _as he took her. He nipped at her skin, eliciting little gasps of pleasure, and then he pulled his hips back, his mouth still on her neck; he drove them forward as his teeth sank into her. She screamed, but not in pain or with fear; no, her scream was of pure ecstasy as he drank from her willing body. Her blood filled his mouth, slid down his throat, warmed every cell of his body; she was intoxicating and most importantly, she was _his_. She was bucking against him, body convulsing as the inferno hit her. She clung to him like a vice, her nails actually digging into his flesh; he was certain that there would be marks on his skin afterward.

He came hard; his cock twitched in his hand, spurting the hot white liquid all over him and the covers of his bed. At the same time, he heard Elena let out another little sigh and scoffed, rolling his eyes; if she honestly thought _that_ was an orgasm…He let out a frustrated growl; knowing that he could satisfy her so much better than that. She _deserved_ to have someone who knew how to satisfy her; he wished for the hundredth time tonight that she was his to satisfy. If he had her, even for _one_ night, she would know pleasure beyond anything she had ever experienced. His cock hardened again at the thought of her on his bed right now; her legs splayed across his dark sheets as he buried his tongue between those sweet folds and tasted all her secrets.

Elena's breathing upstairs began to slow; she had fallen asleep. Damon sighed, rolling off his bed and pulling the soiled bed cover off to toss into the corner; he'd deal with the mess later, but first he needed a shower—a cold one.

The End


	2. A Stallion is Always Better

Back by popular demand for another installment in this little series—I seriously spoil you all too much these days ;) Author's note at the end of the chapter regarding You-Know-Who.

I do not own the rights to Vampire Diaries. I am only using the characters to have a bit of fun and entertain my wonderful, loyal readers. I do, however, claim the rights to every single sentence and/or paragraph I have written for ALL my work; as an original publishing date is just as good as a copyright. If you've written something that looks suspiciously like my writing, as a certain individual has chosen to do, I will eventually find out either on my own, or with the help of one of my (MANY) loyal readers; it's not worth the wrath we'll all inflict upon you, so don't be a thief!

Now on to Part 2 of my sexy "Restless Nights" series. If you favorite or alert me and/or this story, please review!

Restless Night Part II:

Who Needs a Knight When a Stallion Can Do So Much More?

She was hot; so very hot, and there was this persistent throbbing between her legs that wouldn't go away no matter how much she wanted it to. She'd thought he could help her, so she'd let herself into the house and gone upstairs to wait in his room; apparently he'd gone hunting. Typical Stefan; she was horny and he was nowhere to be found. Seems the only time he was actually there for her was when she was in danger and needed him to play the White Knight. She didn't need a knight at the moment; she needed a _stallion_. Damon's sexy smirk and flirtatious, penetrating blue eyes popped into her head; funny how she always seemed to equate him with sex. It wasn't right for her to think of him like that when she was in love with his brother—she was certain that she loved Stefan, damn it! She told herself her attraction to Damon was purely physical; the man _did_ radiate sex after all. His low slung, form-fitting jeans that hugged his sculpted backside and that perfect bulge; the way his dark hair fell into his eyes in that devil-may-care attitude that was so _Damon_; the seductive way his tongue would flick over his perfect lips, well that would drive _any_ woman with a sex drive to distraction. Yep that was all it was; pure, physical, animal attraction. Hot, primal, carnal, sinful attraction to a man she couldn't stand; god, what the hell was wrong with her?

She whimpered; the ache was getting painful now, her core practically pulsing with her need. If Damon (Stefan! Her mind screamed at her for her Freudian slip) didn't get home soon…

She hears a noise downstairs; the slam of the front door. Damon's home (she knows it's not Stefan, though she's not sure how she knows that); he's not alone. She can hear a high-pitched giggle, probably from a local sorority girl. She rolls her eyes and groans; great, he's brought home a midnight snack. Her eyes narrow into slits as she hears the girl suddenly moan out in pleasure; she's not sure why it bothers her, but it does. He's down there fucking some bimbo while she's up here going insane with lust! She's furious—but at the same time, she strains her ears to listen to them. She wishes she could tiptoe down the hall, catch a glimpse of him; she's always secretly wanted to see him naked. Those low slung jeans tempt her so much; revealing that tantalizing trail of dark hair, the V of his hip bones…it's all so sinfully erotic and she just can't stop thinking about it now that she's started.

A loud moan pierces her silent thoughts, and oh, god, it's coming from _him_; she can't believe how loud he's being and it's both annoying and arousing at the same time. She can't think; he's making it impossible with those growls, those moans, those primal grunts as he fucks that sorority girl downstairs senseless (though Elena doubts she had much sense to begin with). Again, she has to wonder why it bothers her so much; why hearing him down there with another woman sends the bile to her throat and twists something tight in her chest until she wants to cry because it hurts so much and she can't figure out _why_ that is. Why is it that she wants so _desperately_ to be that girl down there with him; why is it that she can't find a single reason not to want him other than the fact he's Stefan's brother—and why does that not bother her as much as she knows it should?

She doesn't know why she's doing this; only that she's got to relieve this ache _somehow_. She closes her eyes; letting her fingers trail over her hot skin (she's already naked since she had intended to surprise Stefan). She lets out a soft sigh of pleasure as those fingers slide down over the swells of her breasts. She tries to picture Stefan (she really does), but Damon's face appears in front of her closed eyes instead. He's looking at her with such intensity, and his lips are a breath away from hers; she can practically taste him on her tongue. She melts the second he crashes his lips down over hers in a kiss so achingly tender but at the same time so deeply passionate; she feels like she's about to burst into flames. Her hands come up to rake through his thick, raven colored hair; god, she loves how it feels so perfect, sliding like strands of fine silk between her fingers. She pulls him closer, arching her hips up to rub against the impressive steel length of him between her legs; he's naked, much to her delight—and god, he feels more amazing than she'd imagined (though she knows deep down that she _is_ imagining this; she just doesn't want to admit that it's not real at the moment). His hand cups her breast; he rubs over the nipple with his palm, pinches it with his fingertips. Elena gasps, her back arching up and pressing herself fully into those hands that aren't actually his, but her own. She pinches her own nipples, rolling them between her thumb and forefinger in just the way she could imagine him doing to her; because in her mind, he _is_ the one touching her. It's _his_ hand now sliding down her ribs, over her quivering belly, down to the liquid heat at the apex of her trembling thighs. It's _his_ fingers gliding over her wet folds, dipping in between them to find that sweet spot that makes her tingle with pleasure. Stefan could never seem to find that spot; or, if he did, he seemed to miss it a lot more times than he found it. Damon knows, though; he gets it on the first try and she moans with the pleasure his touch brings. He's teasing her; flicking over it, rubbing in slow circles until her hips are bucking with her need. Every nerve ending in her body has come alive and she gasps and whimpers in pleasure; his name escaping her lips in the softest sigh.

His mouth is on her now; she doesn't even know when that happened but she's not going to question it, not now. He's sucking her pulsing little clit into his mouth and she's writhing on the bed, begging for more. He gives it to her; laps at her like she's his own private dessert buffet and he's determined to savor everything she has to offer him. Her muscles are locking up in spasms and his fingers dip inside to stroke against her front wall (another spot Stefan so frustratingly seems to miss more often than hit!). The tears spring to the corners of her eyes and she can hardly breathe as he works her higher. Every brush of his fingers against her clit has her arching against him now; she's so close she can taste it on her tongue. She wants him; wants him buried deep inside her, wants to feel her walls stretch around him as he satisfies that ache that is so insistent that it's actually pulsing through her system now like a desperate siren's song. He answers the call; slides up her body to capture her lips, and she can taste herself in his mouth. She's not squeamish, she's tasted herself before in all the times she's licked her fingers clean, but she's never tasted herself in his mouth; the combined flavors are intoxicating. He moans into their kiss, the sound muffled (it does not register that the moan is coming from downstairs) by her lips as he presses slowly into her aching, hot core.

She's slid three fingers inside now; her mind telling her it's _him_ as she spreads them out as far as she can and begins to pump them in and out slowly. She throws her head back against the pillows, her hand working furiously inside her; trying desperately to relieve that ache that's been driving her crazy all day ever since she caught the sight of Damon in those sexy jeans and nothing else. She'd tried to ignore that image, but it was so insistent that she just couldn't stand it anymore. That was why she'd come here; to see Damon (Stefan!) and see if something couldn't be done about her little problem. Now she had to take care of it herself while he was enjoying his midnight snack (she wasn't sure herself which one she was referring to now; it didn't matter anyway because she was too far gone to care). The waves of pleasure were washing over her now; sharp little tingles that start in her hands and feet and spread like wildfire.

"Damon…" she moans a little louder than she intended; but somehow the thought that he could hear her only heightens her arousal. She almost wishes he _would_ hear her; she knows if given the right signals she could have him inside her for real. God, just the thought of actually having his magnificent cock inside her causes a shudder of pleasure to go through her; she feels like a damn faucet right now with how much of her juices keep dripping onto her hand and onto the bed. She wonders if he can smell it right now; if her scent calls to him even as he's fucking that tramp who can't even really appreciate how beautiful, how passionate Damon is. She doesn't know him any differently than she knows the frat boys she's probably used to fucking on a regular basis; but Elena knows him and she will be damned if she lets this little bitch have his full attention. She _wants_ Damon to hear her now; wants him to know _exactly_ what she's up to and who she's thinking of while she's doing it.

"DAMON! Fuck, I'm close," she cries out; it's as much for his benefit as it is her own because somehow saying the words is really getting her off right now. She's never been this vocal before; Stefan's more into the sweet, romantic love making than the raw, passionate, primal sex that she _craves_. She tried with him; he couldn't do it. He didn't get her hot at all; not the way picturing Damon saying those naughty things to her in the heat of their passion did. Her fingers slide upward; they curl inside of her and she presses firmly against that sponge-like tissue until the little "tickle" of her bladder ceases and that deep tingling rush starts to build up. Her other hand works her clit, rubbing in tight, firm circles as she pictures him thrusting into her at a maddening pace.

"Fuck, Elena…" he moans into her ear; she loves hearing her name, loves how it rolls off his tongue in a gentle caress of her sensitive flesh.

"Do it!" she moans, tilting her head back and exposing the side of her throat. Stefan never would, no matter how much she begged; Damon doesn't even hesitate, his lips press against that sensitive spot and he sinks his teeth into her skin. She cries out at the sensation; she can feel him in every cell of her body and it's like the most intense, euphoric rush she's ever experienced (no drug could ever come close to Damon Salvatore's delicious bite). She comes hard; her thighs lock around his hips, keeping him deep within her. Her inner walls are gripping him so tight she's amazed he's able to keep thrusting at all. He's jerking his hips; his primal grunts and loud moans of her name combined with a few choice curse words are music to her ears and she senses he's about to crash over the edge and join her in oblivion.

"Come with me," she hears him say; he slides his hand down to work her clit with such maddening skill that she could swear he knew exactly what he was doing to her and what she was feeling. She comes undone and he pushes his hips forward sharply, spilling everything he has into her as she writhes beneath him, crying out his name in her rapture.

The house is silent now; except for her heavy breathing and pounding heart, and her limbs have grown so weak. She's sinking so easily into that comatose state of afterglow and she doesn't even hear the dark, sardonic laugh coming from down below. Doesn't hear anything at all because her mind is still in an orgasmic haze of confusion; he could come up right now and she wouldn't even be able to tell if it was real or a dream. Her eyes are closed, her legs still splayed out with her hand resting between them; her fingers are lazily pulling back, coated with her juices. She's too tired, too _sated_, too _spent_ to clean herself up; it's not the first time a fantasy of Damon has done this to her, and she's fine with the mess. She drifts off into a haze of flashbacks and sweet fantasies of the two of them together, quickly letting sleep take her. She doesn't know that he's sent the girl back to her dorm without as much as a nibble (did she really think he could enjoy his meal when something far more _tasty_ was going on upstairs?). She doesn't hear him at the door; doesn't see the amused smirk on his face; doesn't realize his eyes are lingering on her a little longer than a man would if he was _just_ appreciating the pretty picture she made; she doesn't see the tenderness in his eyes as he carefully tucks her under the covers, wanting to keep her warm. She must sense him though, Damon is sure of it; for when he places that soft, sweet kiss against her forehead, he's certain that she's smiling and dreaming of him.

Then End…or is it? I may have one more little chapter for this mini-series, thanks to popular demand ;)

Now, as for this little plagiarist (you really didn't think I'd forget now did you?)…

She has since deleted her account, but a reader from Live Journal's Damon & Elena community alerted me that she found another one (KaterinaPetrova12) with the same two stories. She took out most (but not ALL) of the stuff she stole from my fic and put it in "The Story of Us"—I guess the irony of her former title "Mine" wasn't lost on her after all. Anyway, wondering what else she stole, I went into her fic "Seventeen Forever" and it wasn't until Chapter 7 that I found a little paragraph (small, but so obviously mine since I know my work like the back of my hand) from Chapter 2. So, I just decided to hit the Report Abuse button and let the MODs deal with her; b/c as much as it pains me to say this, the flames are keeping her warm and cozy. This girl is _not_ in any way remorseful for her actions; in fact, I think she kind of likes all the attention she's gotten despite her whining about me "harassing" her and not being able to "get over" myself. So, in light of this new information, I appeal now to my fellow writers. Please don't go over there flaming her (she likes it too much) and instead just report her ass. If you're also so inclined, please make a mention of this in the author's notes of your stories, telling your readers…well, to quote our favorite cocky vampire, "just ignore the bitch" and quietly report her to the MODs if they like. I feel this will be a far easier and more effective way to deal with her and that way we can all get back to our lives as awesome writers and/or avid readers of amazing fanfiction!

Chapter 10 is going to take a while, sorry to say. I've been posting these one-shots instead b/c they are able to be written a lot faster than an actual story chapter. I still have a ton of boxes that need to be unpacked, and my husband is still very upset over the loss of his cat so I have to console him most nights when he gets home. In other words, I have more time right now to just whip up a quick lemon dessert in, to quote a reader of mine, "Kitty's Kitchen" than I do to prepare a three-course meal this week ;) Also, I'm going out on a date with the hubby on the weekend b/c it was our anniversary on Tuesday and we couldn't really celebrate since he had his night class to go to. It's for our future, however, so I don't mind so much; besides, I get to work on my writing while he's away!

I'll try not to keep you all waiting too long for my next creation in the "kitchen".

~Carly~


	3. She Can't Take the Sexual Tension

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. It's not worth it; don't be a thief.

Restless Night Part III:

Nothing Like a Good Fight Full Of Pent-Up Sexual Tension to Get Your Heart Pounding!

She's lying in her bed, her pulse still racing from their encounter earlier; unable to get to sleep. She still can't understand just why he's so infuriatingly _stubborn; _does he think she _wants_ to die? Hell no, she's fucking _terrified_; but Katherine's words keep haunting her. Klaus will kill everyone she's ever cared about if she refuses to surrender; she doesn't have a choice. She won't allow anyone she loves to die for her; not even him. He should know her better than that by now; did he not realize what she was saying to him earlier in the kitchen? How when she said "including the two of you," her eyes had lingered on _his_ for a reason? She rolls her eyes; no, of course he didn't realize she wasn't talking about his little brother anymore. Yes, she cares about Stefan; a part of her always will. He was her first love, after all; the boy who once used to sweep her off her feet and shield her from her painful past. She doesn't need that shield anymore; she doesn't need a _protector_, not when she knows she's more than capable of facing a threat on her own. Damon used to see that, before he got his heart (she knows he has one, even if it isn't beating in the physical sense) involved; before he fell in love with her and lost every bit of common sense he had. She had all but said the words both at Slater's penthouse and back on her front porch; he should know what she means when she says she won't let the people she loves die for her, hell it was fucking obvious.

He hadn't even given the slightest reaction to her (almost) admission—not the one she wanted anyway. She can still picture the way he grasped her fist in his hand, his head lowering as he stared intensely into her eyes; she'd been so sure he was going to kiss her, because she knew he would never hurt her. Her breaths had come fast and shallow, her heart pounded in her chest, and she'd waited for his lips to crash down on hers, to slam her against the wall and fuck her right there. She hadn't cared that Rose was there; it would have shown her _exactly_ who had Damon Salvatore's heart and the bitch would have had no choice but to back the hell off. If she hadn't needed the help of the older vampire, she probably would have driven a stake through her heart or something equally poetic; after all, she'd had _no right_ to use Damon like her own personal fuck toy. She pauses in her silent rant, realizing just how insanely jealous and possessive she sounds; well, Katherine _did_ say she had the Petrova fire in her.

That fire is now scorching hot; fueled by a myriad of anger, jealousy, frustration, fear and her unquenchable lust for the infuriating man who had derailed her "Crazy Kamikaze Mission", as he'd called it. She'd been so angry with him, but she can't fault him for wanting to protect her; after all, she's just as determined to protect him. She doesn't know how she knows this, but she's certain that when the battle comes and the warriors begin to fall, he will be the first one to die for her; she has this terrible feeling that if he does, a piece of her soul will die with him.

She thrashes around on her bed, punching the pillows in an attempt to both release some of her frustration and to make them more comfortable so she can _try _to fall asleep; she growls in frustration when her brain refuses to shut off for the night. She rolls onto her side, hugging one pillow to her chest and closing her eyes; she wishes it was Damon. Somehow, she knows he can make all of this go away—at least for a while. She wishes for the hundredth time since everything started spinning out of control that she hadn't rejected him that night; he'd be here in her arms right now if she hadn't done that. Perhaps everything would have been easier if she'd just _let_ him kiss her, and given in to her own feelings for him. She rolls over onto her back, eyes still closed as her hands drifting lazily over her chest. What would have happened, had she kissed him back, she wonders.

She can smell the alcohol on his breath mixed with the leather and the spice of his cologne; it's a heady combination. His hands cup the sides of her face as he leans in to her, pressing his lips against hers. She can feel her heart pounding, the blood rushing through her veins and settling low in her belly; he reacts instantly to her and she can feel the evidence pressing against her. Instead of pulling away, her hands release his wrists and slide up to tangle into his thick dark hair. He moans against her mouth and deepens the kiss; his hands leave a burning path of liquid fire as he slides them down to her back, pulling her closer. She clings to him, arching her back to press her soft breasts against his hard chest. His lips are insistent upon her own; kissing her with such intensity and passion that her legs are already shaking with the effort it's taking to stand. She'd had no idea that it would be like this between them; the electrical current between them both frightens and excites her.

Elena moans softly, letting her fingertips dance over her hot skin through her thin camisole; her nipples pucker in response and the pulse between her thighs is starting up again. She's dealt with this enough times during all her wandering thoughts regarding Damon to know this particular ache will not go away on its own; one hand slips down under the blankets to tease through damp cotton. She lets out another low moan as one fingertip presses against her sweet spot.

Damon has moved them both onto her bed and he's lying on top of her, his hips pressing into the soft apex of her thighs. She rakes her nails down his back, loving the feel of him pressed against her chest to thigh as his tongue slips into her mouth to play with hers; she shivers in pleasure at his taste. His hand glides over the soft rises of her breasts, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She arches her back in response, whimpering against his lips in a plea for more stimulation. His hard length rubs against her through his jeans, creating delicious friction where she needs it most.

"Damon," she gasps as his lips leave hers to follow the delicate path of skin from the corner of her jaw to her collar bone. She strokes his hair, encouraging him to continue as he slides the straps off her shoulders and tugs the material down to her waist. She bites her lip to keep from crying out too loud when his tongue finds her sensitive nipple. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue, teasing her before finally closing his lips over it and tugging it into his warm mouth.

"Unngh…Damon…" she whines as she bucks her hips against his; the pressure ache driving her crazy. He draws his head back from her chest, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Now tell me you don't want this," he says in a low purr. His hand slips beneath the waistband of her pants and her belly quivers in anticipation; but he doesn't touch her.

"Elena, _tell me_," he whispers against her ear. "Tell me that you don't want me," he presses. "Tell me that this thing between us is all in my head…" He grinds his hips into her harder, making her gasp, "That it isn't _real_." He takes her earlobe into his mouth and bites down with his blunt teeth, causing her to shudder at the sensation. "Lie to me," he rasps against her skin.

She shakes her head, sighing in resignation as her body betrays her mind completely; she'll tell him anything he wants to hear, any truth that she's attempted to deny, just as long as he keeps touching her—and never stops.

"Please," she whimpers; her thighs part as she wiggles her hips to try to get him where she wants him. His hand draws back from her; hovering over her skin but refusing to touch her.

"Please stop, or please _don't_ stop?" he teases, his fingertips brushing over her once more; tracing lazy circles over her damp panties. "Which is it, Elena?" He's deliberately taunting her with his words but she doesn't care; she needs him too much to pretend he doesn't affect her.

"Please, Damon…" she moans. "I want you." Her hands slide down to rest on his hips; tugging at the waistband of his jeans as if to prove she means every word—and she does, oh god, she means every syllable. She wants him so badly she's certain he could just skip the foreplay, tear all their clothes off and take her right now; just slide that thick massive cock inside her and fuck her into oblivion.

His hand is pressing against her now; rubbing her sensitive little clit and sending the shocks straight through every nerve ending she has. She's writhing beneath him, moaning against his neck as he takes her higher.

"Fuck, Elena, you're so wet," he moans against her skin, pressing soft kisses down her chest. "I have to taste you."

His hands are now hooking the waistbands of both her pants and underwear and he draws them down her legs, leaving her exposed to him. Her thighs are spread out and resting on his shoulders; her fingers grasp his hair as his lips and tongue work their magic over her. She's on fire; every nerve ending in her body is tingling with electricity and the beads of sweat are sliding down her thighs. She can't breathe; can't think; can't even form the letters of his name on her lips to beg for more, though he somehow knows what she needs without her saying a word. He presses his talented, teasing tongue against her flesh; tapping that spot that makes her both hot and cold at the same time and the goose-bumps to form on her skin. She can feel every fine hair standing on end; just the slightest brush of his fingertips over her thighs has her shivering. His lips close around that little bud, sending the sensations deep into her core until she's aware of nothing else but the way he's making her feel _right now_. She can feel her inner walls clenching; she wants him inside, but at the same time she doesn't want this delicious feeling to end—it's just so incredibly addicting; no substance, legal or illegal, could ever compare to _this_ high.

Her fingers have taken on a mind of their own now; she's so lost in the sensations and has let the fantasy completely take over and her erratic movements are almost like a reflex as she presses harder, feeling the tension coiling in her belly. She can't take it anymore; the coil is about to snap and she wants it too badly to draw this out anymore. With quick, practiced movements, she pushes herself over the edge; his name is a whisper on her lips as her juices spill onto her hand and the bed sheets. She's not sure when it happened, but she managed to kick the covers off the bed sometime during her fantasy. She's still panting from her orgasm, but the pressure is still there; she may not be able to quell the fire inside her this time. Tears of frustration spring to her eyes as she realizes that her lust for Damon has finally gotten out of control; she wishes he was here to help her…

As if he can read her mind, he suddenly appears outside her window. His perfect blue eyes sparkle in amusement and he's grinning like the cat about to eat the canary. "Damn," he says, glancing over her naked body in appreciation. "Looks like I just missed a hell of a show."

Author's Note: Ooooh, a cliffhanger! I know, I'm so deliciously evil I make some readers' teeth hurt ;) I seriously debated whether or not to let him catch her mid-act and finish her off, or draw this out a little more. Obviously, I got a bit more "inspiration" tonight so you can thank my wonderful husband for fixing my horrible case of writer's block. Seriously, I have been struggling with this _and_ Chapter 10 all week and I really wasn't sure if I'd be able to make my self-imposed deadline.

I'm happy to report that the rip-off artist has either deleted her fic (finally) or the MODs have done it for her. I would like to thank everyone who took the time to gleefully harass her until she gave up trying to lie her way out of the situation. I'm not without my battle scars, however; this incident has taught me just how far some people are willing to go to get "recognition" and now I'll forever be watching over my shoulder and worrying that someone else will copy me—it's not a pleasant feeling. So, if any of you ever discover something like this happening again with any of my stories please contact me right away and report the plagiarist to the MODs. I've added a new sort of disclaimer to my chapters, but that's not always a deterrent for some criminals; especially the attention-seeking type like this last one so obviously turned out to be. Enough about that unpleasant subject…on to a more positive note, I'm now on FaceBook. Okay, so technically I'm already on it, but since my baby cousins and older relatives happen to be on my friends list I can't exactly post all the stuff I would like to. This new account is super easy to find though since I added a nickname as a sort of tag or whatever you want to call it. Just type TemptressKitten (all one word) and look for the Damon/Katherine pic. I plan to post all sorts of little updates on the status of my fics, as well as extras relevant to my stories (got the idea from BadBoysAreBest). Right now, the link to the hotel Damon and Elena are staying at in "All I Need" has been posted to my wall, and other little extras will follow. I may even set up a spoiler section in my notes, should anyone be interested in that ;) If you decide to friend me, be sure to mention your penname in your request so I know who you are. Can't wait to hear from you!

~Carly


	4. Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine

Warnings: Voyeurism & Mutual Masturbation.

Dedications for this chapter go to BadBoysAreBest for inspiring this little gem in the first place. You know I can never pass up a challenge, S! Hope you like it! I also want to thank DomOx since she was kind enough to read over the first part for me as my beta. If it wasn't for the two of you constantly pushing me, I probably wouldn't fight against my writer's block as hard as I have been. You ladies really keep me motivated!

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. It's not worth it; don't be a thief :)

Restless Nights Part IV

Show Me Yours And I'll Show You Mine…

He's leaning casually against her window sill as if it's the most normal thing in the world for him to be sneaking into her room at 2AM; for Damon, however, it is.

She grabs the blanket to cover herself, but he flashes over to her and whips the thing away from her before she can blink; he has a devilish grin on his face as he lounges against the window again, watching her.

"What are you doing here?" Her face is hot with embarrassment, but she tries not to let on how uncomfortably exposed she's feeling.

"Enjoying the view, what else?" he grins lasciviously at her and she rolls her eyes.

"I'm serious, Damon," she says, crossing her arms over her chest; the action pushes up her breasts and she watches as his eyes automatically travel to that spot. Her breasts practically tingle in response to his penetrating gaze.

"So am I." He's licking his lips hungrily; so tempted to fulfill whatever fantasy she'd been dreaming up about him before he came up here. She had no idea he'd been listening the whole time, just outside her window. Truthfully he would have simply stayed out there all night, her silent protector, had she simply gone to sleep like she was supposed to; but no, she just had to get all hot and bothered and make those sexy noises as she brought herself pleasure with his name on her lips—she has no fucking clue how much she affected him; she's about to find out.

She rolls her eyes and holds out her hand for him to give her the blanket. "I'm tired, Damon," she sighs. It's eerie how those words sound exactly the same as the ones she spoke that night—the night he made her forget—she will remember this one.

He can't stand the thought of not having her now; not when he almost lost her today due to her stubborn attempt at sacrificing herself in order to keep him from dying for her—how foolish since he knows he's not worth it. He still doesn't understand why she feels he's worth saving even at the risk of her own life, or why she chooses to care about him at all when he doesn't deserve her love, but he realizes it doesn't matter; love isn't based on logic, after all.

"You don't look tired," he points out, his eyes raking over her body. "You look…" he licks his lips, "_aroused_."

She flings a pillow at him and he catches it in his large hands, smirking at her. "Is this an invitation for me to spend the night?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"It's a hint that you should _leave_," she growls at him. Her arms are still covering her chest and she's pulled her legs up; her thighs are pressed together in an effort to keep him from viewing all her secrets, and to somehow ease the persistent ache inside her.

Damon is immovable from his spot at the window; he simply watches her as if he's considering something. "See, I don't think you really want me to do that," he says in that tone that tells her he knows her far better than she thinks. He leans back against the frame, facing her; he acts like he owns the place and it both infuriates her and turns her on at the same time.

She knows she should kick him out; that she should grab something else to cover herself and end whatever game he wants to play before it's even begun, but she can't because she knows he's right—she doesn't want to. "And why do you say that?" she asks, trying her best to sound annoyed even as her heart begins to race and pound insistently in her chest.

"Because I know you want me," he says confidently. "And before you try to get all uptight and deny it, keep in mind that I can _smell_ you right now and I heard you call out _my_ name."

She flushes to the roots of her hair, cursing his heightened vampire senses and cursing herself for not having the strength anymore to argue with him; she's just so _tired_ of lying to him and to herself. "So what if I did?" She's challenging him now, curious to find out how far he's actually going to take this. She's tired of the teasing; the games; the thinly veiled, blatantly sexual remarks; she's determined to finish this, one way or the other.

He arches an eyebrow in surprise at her admission; he hadn't expected that, but then part of the reason he loves her is her unpredictability. He swallows hard because it feels like something is caught in his throat; for the first time in his un-life, he can't think of a single witty, sarcastic, sexually suggestive or teasing response to her question.

Her eyes light up and he swears he's seen that triumphant look before; once again he's shocked to see Katherine's fire within her. Of course he shouldn't be too surprised; it does run in the family, after all.

"Have I finally managed to render the great Damon Salvatore speechless?" she taunts him. "What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted to hear?"

She's feeling wild now; so unlike herself and yet she can't seem to stop. She doesn't know what it is about him that gets her so hot, so full of fire and insatiable lust; all she knows is that he's awakened something within her that refuses to be denied a second longer. She wants him, plain and simple. She lowers her arms, leans back on the bed, parts her legs and looks directly into blue eyes full of shock, confusion, and thinly veiled desire.

"Elena," he growls low in warning. She refuses to listen, her fingers now tracing teasingly over her hot skin; her nipples pucker up into tight little buds in response.

"Damon," she purrs; her voice breathy as one lone digit tickles around her belly button.

He clenches is jaw tightly, hands flexing at his sides; he can smell her arousal stronger now as she parts her thighs further and slides her fingers lower, toward that tangle of dark neatly trimmed curls and wet, swollen pink flesh. He wants to taste her so badly that it's taking all the strength he has to stay where he is; but he won't give in to her, not until she tells him she wants _only_ him. He refuses to share her with Stefan; he's selfish like that. So as painful as this is for him right now, he _will not_ take her tonight; no matter how much she begs him or how good a show she decides to give.

She watches him, slightly puzzled at his behavior; she'd expected him to leap onto the bed and fuck her to oblivion and back, but he hasn't moved at all. She stills the movements of her hand, biting her lip; he smirks back at her, amused.

"Hey, don't stop on my account," he tells her. He's stretched out as much as he possibly can on the small window seat, as if he's just getting comfortable. She frowns, unsure of what to do now; she hadn't really planned on giving him more than a teasing glimpse of her, assuming he would have pounced by now—she sort of hates him right now for calling her bluff.

"What are you doing?" she asks, getting frustrated now. Her body craves his touch, and she's going out of her mind right now; the ache is so painful that she can think of nothing else.

"Getting comfortable before the show starts," he responds nonchalantly.

Her eyes narrow at him. "There's no show, Damon."

He smirks knowingly. "Oh, I doubt that," he taunts. "Because how else are you going to fix your little _problem_?"

She has that puzzled look on her face again. "You're not going to…" she starts to question.

"Nope!" he informs her.

She crosses her arms across her chest again, letting out a frustrated little sound between a sigh and a growl. His eyes are glittering with amusement as she squeezes her thighs together again; she's practically rolling around on the bed like a cat in heat—he would feel a little sorry for her if the sight wasn't so fucking hilarious. Elena, usually all uptight and repressed, was rolling around on the bed and begging the big bad vampire to fuck her senseless; he wishes he had a video camera.

"You know, you're only torturing _yourself_," he taunts her. "Me…well I can wait all night if I have to; not like I _need_ sleep or anything. You, on the other hand, aren't likely to get any rest tonight if you keep denying yourself that _release_ you're craving."

She's biting the inside of her cheek, knowing he's right; the whole reason she's in this mess in the first place is because she couldn't sleep. Still, she's never done this before; not with someone watching her. Her eyes meet his, and he must read something in them because his expression softens in understanding.

"Close your eyes, Elena," he commands softly.

Her lashes flutter shut and she takes a deep breath to calm her nerves. Damon watches the soft rises and falls of her chest, his focus suddenly drawn to something; she's not wearing her necklace tonight—how _interesting_.

She gasps in shock as his lips trace a soft path down her neck; she opens her eyes to look at him, but he hasn't moved from his spot at the window. He has an amused smirk on his lips and she looks at him in confusion; she's so sure that she felt him kiss her.

"I didn't say you could open them," he scolds, though his tone is playful, not angry. She smiles apologetically and she shuts them again; though she's a little apprehensive since she has no idea what he's planning.

"Relax," his voice is like a soft caress as it echoes softly in the dark room. She inhales in a shuddering breath as her skin reacts to those soft, ghostly lips against her skin.

"You feel that?" he asks her, still using that soft, husky voice that sends shivers of pleasure up her spine.

She nods her head. "Yes," she whispers. She can't see him, but she's certain he's smiling in pure male satisfaction.

"Good," he whispers. "I want you to focus on that feeling, Elena. Let it wash over you…"

She arches her back against the bed as invisible fingers trace around her breasts and down her sides. "Do you like this?" he asks.

"Yes," she whimpers, trying to move those fingers where she wants them; but of course she can't because they're not really there. Somehow Damon is using his powers to get inside her head and make her feel this way without actually touching her.

"Do you want more?" he rasps.

She nods her head, biting her lip as those soft fingers tease her nipples.

"Show me," he commands suddenly.

Her eyes are wide open again. "What?" she asks.

Damon wags a finger at her in warning. "Ah ah ah! If you keep doing that I'll have to stop…"

She closes her eyes again, sighing in frustration. All at once the feelings return; her nipples tingle in excitement at the invisible brushing of fingertips over her sides.

"Now, show me where you want me to touch you…" His voice is back to that soothing tone, almost hypnotic. She's sinking into the mattress, the rest of the world suddenly melting away. The only thing she's aware of is the sound of his voice and the touch of her fingers as they slowly trace up over her breasts. She doesn't even realize she's doing it at first; she's simply lost in this moment, completely consumed by her desire.

"Fuck, your nipples are so hard," he rasps. "They're practically begging to be touched…do it," he commands.

She can hear a button popping, a zip and a rustle of fabric, and she moans softly as she realizes what he's about to do; a part of her wishes she didn't have to keep her eyes shut against such a glorious image. Her fingertips are hovering just over her nipples, her breaths are shallow, and she's fighting to keep her eyes closed; she can almost picture his hand stroking his hard length as he watches her.

"Damon, please touch me…" she whines.

His eyes are closed as he grips his shaft, stroking in slow, controlled movements. "I _am_ touching you," he purrs; he reaches out to probe her mind, feeding into the fantasy. "You have the control right now, Elena. _Use it…_"

She rolls her nipples between her thumbs and index fingers, moaning and arching up into her hands; she's fallen completely under his spell, believing that they are really _his_ hands touching her. The ghostly lips are back, brushing over the sensitive skin just below her earlobe; it only feeds into the fantasy he's weaving in her head and she shivers in reaction.

"That's it, baby…" He lets out a hiss of pleasure as he rubs over his swollen head; his eyes are locked on her face as it contorts with her pleasure. He's certain he's never seen anything more beautiful in all of existence. He's never heard anything more beautiful than the sounds coming from her lips; of his name being whispered, moaned, and choked out in such pleasure. Once again he's in awe of how much he truly loves her and wants her with every cell in his body; he knows he will love her for all eternity, possibly even longer.

"Damon…I want…" she whimpers. She's writhing on the bed, squeezing her breasts, and pinching her pebbled nipples; her thighs part and he now has a spectacular view of her. Her hand is sliding down off her breast now, circling her belly, dipping lower to stroke those soft wet folds. She gasps, her back arches up, and her thighs spread further apart as her fingers quickly locate that swollen little bud. "I want…" she whimpers again as she circles that bundle of nerves with a fingertip teasingly.

"What do you want, Elena?" he moans softly. He grips his shaft harder, strokes faster; his nails are digging into the cushion so hard he fears he may have to replace it for her later. He thinks she's going to ask him to touch her again, and in this one thing he's determined to deny her; for tonight, at least. But what she wants isn't what he expected from her at all, and he nearly loses control right then.

"I want to see you," she whispers in a voice so overtaken with lust that he barely recognizes it; she sounds so fucking hot right now he doesn't know if he'll be able to draw this out much longer. He's reluctant, knowing that the illusions he's placed in her mind will fade the second she opens her eyes; still, he can't deny her request and a part of him desperately wants to look into those eyes again. He can't resist giving her one last taste and promise of pleasure first.

She gasps in shock as an image of them together, clear as if it's actually happening, enters her mind. Her legs are draped over his strong, sculpted shoulders; her heels are digging into the sinewy muscles of his back; her thighs are clenched around his head, and she's writhing, shaking, panting and letting out choked little sounds of pleasure as his lips and tongue work over that sensitive little bundle of nerves.

"Keep going…Damon…" she moans, her thighs trembling in her efforts.

She's working herself to a fever pitch; she's so close he can almost taste her on his lips for real. He doubles his efforts to bring himself just as close to the edge as she is.

"Look at me, baby," he rasps.

Her lashes flutter beneath heavy lids as she attempts to open her eyes; the task is more difficult due to her increasing desire, but eventually she manages it. She bites her lip to fight back a loud cry of pleasure at the sight of him stroking himself in a perfect, synchronized rhythm to hers.

"I want you to come for me, Elena," he practically growls as he pumps harder, squeezing his flesh; he's going so hard and fast she'd almost think it was painful if not for the expression of unmistakable pleasure on his handsome face. His eyes are dark as the night and she feels as if he's staring into her soul; she's overcome by emotion and feeling that there are hardly words powerful enough to describe it. Her lips twitch, seeking the touch of his; her body is screaming out for him to hold her and touch her, to become one with her.

"Damon, please…" Her cries are no more than a whisper now, her breathing so labored in her efforts that she can do little more than gasp as the shocks of pleasure shoot down her thighs and curl her toes.

"That's it, Elena…you've got it…let go, baby." Her eyes are still locked on his and the connection between them feels as intimate as if he was truly inside her. She thrashes on the bed, her thighs tremble around her hand, and then she's falling off the precipice and plunging deep into a sea of pure orgasmic bliss; it crashes over her in wave after wave. She's dimly aware of Damon's growl of pleasure as the hot white liquid springs forth, coating his hands at that same moment.

For a moment they simply stare into each other's eyes, her breathing heavily as her heart pounds in her chest like a jackhammer, him panting just as heavily not because he necessarily needs to breathe, but because it makes it all the more intense. The words he wants to say to her (again) are on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them back down. There will be time for such revelations soon enough, but for now he's content to simply have this moment with her. Her lids have grown heavy and he can hear her heart start to slow down; finally she'll be able to get some much needed rest. He wants to stay with her, to hold her, but he steels his heart against the possibility of rejection. Carefully he tucks himself back into his jeans after using the end of his shirt to clean himself up; deciding he'll just do a load of laundry later since he doesn't want her to have to deal with the mess. He may be a bad boy, but he still knows how to be a gentleman when it counts.

He turns toward the window, ready to head off into the night with a heavy heart.

"Don't leave," she whispers, pleading him with her expressive brown eyes; he really could get lost in those eyes.

He tilts his head, barely able to contain the joy he feels at her silent admission that she wants him for more than just the pleasure he can offer her. She's licking her lips nervously, but her meaning is clear as she slides over to one side of her bed to make more room for him to join her. He accepts her invitation, quickly removing his clothes and tossing them onto the window seat. She's blushing as she takes in the full sight of him in all his naked glory, suddenly shy again; he thinks it's adorable. In a flash of motion he has her bed re-made, with her still in it, and slips under the covers next to her. She immediately snuggles into his side, placing soft little kisses over his chest and neck. Her arm is draping lazily over his firm stomach; it isn't long before her hand starts to wander south of the border.

She's more than a little confused when his hand closes over hers and brings it back up to his lips for a chaste kiss.

"Sleep," he tells her firmly, resting her hand back over his chest and placing his own hand over top to keep it there.

She tries to fight it, wanting to stay awake and enjoy the luxury of (finally) having Damon Salvatore in her bed after dreaming about it for so long, but her body is sinking into the languorous afterglow and her eyes begin to flutter shut. She snuggles into him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. But a question is on her mind, and she knows she won't be able to shut off these thoughts circling in her mind until she asks it.

"When?" she whispers, hoping he won't make her wait too long.

She purrs like a contented kitten in his arms as he softly strokes her hair.

"Soon," he promises. In his mind, he adds "_when you finally admit I'm the only one you want."_

"But not tonight?" she yawns in spite of herself and he chuckles softly, pulling the covers up around her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head, pausing to breathe her in.

"Not tonight," he whispers. _"Not until you tell me you love me too."_ He hopes he doesn't have to wait _too_ long for her to decide; but then again, it's not like he's getting any older.

The End

Author's Note:

…of this chapter! Had you going for a second, didn't I? Don't worry my fellow Delena smut addicts; I have one last chapter in store. I _was_ going to post them both together, but a certain fic author who likes her bad boys ;) kept begging and pleading with me to finish this one. In fact, she's the reason you're all getting 5 chapters now instead of 4, so be sure to head over and read the last chapter of "Memory Serves" and her other epic fics, and be sure to leave a nice review for her since she likes praise just as much as I do!


	5. The Final Night

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. It's not worth it; don't be a thief :)

This is for everyone who reviewed this story from the first chapter and encouraged me to continue it, and for those who would have preferred a different outcome of events in our mid-season finale.

Restless Nights Part V

The Final Restless Night

She sent him away without a pang of regret, giving him nothing more than a parting hug goodbye; they were still friends, after all. How long that would remain the case once she confessed, however, she didn't know. She hoped that eventually he would forgive her, but she knew she couldn't count on that. It might help the situation that she made her choice after she'd already broken things off with him, and it wasn't like she just hopped into bed with his brother while he was stuck in the tomb; though she knows it's only because _he_ hadn't given in last night, not technically anyway.

She can still feel the warmth of his arms enveloping her in a lover's embrace; can still smell his spicy cologne and that scent that is uniquely _Damon_. His breathy words echo in her ears, and she can think of nothing she wants more than to continue what they started last night. She's ready for him now; Stefan is officially in her past, and _he_ is her future.

She's staring out at the night sky from her bay window, wondering where he is right now. She can't go to him thanks to that little spell he had Bonnie cast to keep her under house arrest; he'll be happy to know he doesn't have to worry anymore. She'll keep her word, just as Elijah has shown he'll keep his; her loved ones are safe and she doesn't have to sacrifice herself. Yes, he'll be happy to hear that, and everything else she's going to tell him. She hopes he'll show up tonight, even if it's just to taunt her again about this latest little stunt he's pulled to keep her safe. She debates with herself whether or not to pretend she's still angry with him for that, though really she was just annoyed earlier that he would side with everyone else against her; love could certainly be inconvenient sometimes.

She looks over at the clock impatiently; it's now after midnight and she sighs in disappointment because clearly he's not coming. She stretches her legs and sets her feet onto the floor, her muscles protesting as she stands up. She's resigned to the fact that she might be spending the night alone; it's at the moment she's stripping out of her clothes, moving toward her dresser to slip on a pair of shorts and camisole when he pops his head in the window, smirking, naturally.

"You really shouldn't leave your window open," he scolds with a teasing lilt to his voice. "Some men see that as an invitation, you know."

She crosses her arms over her chest, deliberately pushing up her breasts provocatively. His eyes immediately darken with lust and she feels a sense of sheer feminine pride that she can turn him on so easily.

"How do you know I wasn't waiting for someone?" she asks, moving casually toward the bed and lying on her side, facing him; she makes no move to get under the covers or even grab a pillow to cover her naked body from him. He's seen it before, and she doesn't see the point of hiding from him now when she's finally willing to reveal much more than that tonight.

Of course he takes her words a different way, and she can see the hurt reflecting in those beautiful blue eyes.

"So you managed to get him out of the tomb." It wasn't a question, merely a statement.

She nods. "Elijah paid me a visit earlier," she says emotionlessly. "We sort of made a deal."

His eyes immediately search hers, concern written all over his face. He never should have left her alone; he should have realized that somehow the conniving bastard would have found a way to get to her. His stupid attempt to keep her safe had left her trapped instead. He wonders how much time he has left with her, and how he can prevent Elijah from leading her to her death; he also thinks about killing himself should he fail.

"So you traded your life to free Stefan from the tomb and his psycho ex-girlfriend," Damon spits out. "How _noble_; truly a sacrificial love worthy of Shakespearean sonnets." He rolls his eyes at her stupidity. "So what next," he continues, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Elijah frees my brother and he climbs through your window for one last night, and you leave in the morning to meet your death?"

"No," she tells him, eyes full of fire. How dare he mock her like this, when everything she's done lately has been to protect everyone she cares about! "Actually, the reason Elijah came to visit me was to _stop_ me from sacrificing myself!" she explains.

Damon is in shock, unable to believe what she's saying. "You honestly believe that?" he asks skeptically.

She nods. "Yes, I do. His exact words were "_do nothing, live your life, stop fighting."_ So that's exactly what I'm going to do," she says simply. "I'm not going to worry about Klaus or the Moonstone, or any other threat that comes our way because Elijah has assured me that he will keep everyone I love safe, and as further proof that he means us no harm he even got Stefan out of the tomb earlier tonight."

"Of course he did," Damon sighs, trying to hide the bitter resentment. "And I suppose the first thing he did as a free man was come see you? Did you already have your bittersweet reunion?"

She shakes her head. "No," she tells him, and her eyes pierce his with so much heat that it burns. "He came by, but I sent him home."

Damon scoffs. "What, no whispering sweet nothings in the dark? Not even a few little kisses or some hand-holding?"

"No," she says again, this time with more finality. "Nothing happened."

"Come on," he rolls his eyes. "You're telling me that the love of your life was here a few hours ago, a free man practically starving for your attention, and you didn't drag him straight to bed?"

"If he was the love of my life, I wouldn't have broken up with him," she says, growing impatient with him now. He's clearly not realizing the significance of her turning Stefan away, when she could have very easily taken him back.

Damon's brow furrows in confusion. "Okay, so then what was all that talk earlier about saving the people you love, if you didn't mean Stefan?" He has his suspicions, based on everything she's said to him, but he hates setting himself up for disappointment.

She bites her lip, suddenly wishing that she was dressed because she knows that once she tells him, there won't be anything between them. There's no going back from this moment; but then again, she doesn't _want_ to go back.

"I wasn't talking about your brother," she mutters, but he hears her.

"What did you say?" he asks, unable to believe it.

"You heard me," she tells him, eyes burning into his with such intensity that the room could catch fire and neither would notice. "It's real," she whispers, smiling softly.

He's still staring at her, a million different emotions rushing to the surface; all reflected in those ice blue eyes. He can't seem to form the words he wants to say; so he shows her instead.

In an instant his lips are crashing down on hers; it's their first real kiss, and it sends fire through his veins. Her lips are so soft, so welcoming; it feels like he's come home. He cups her face in his hands, his tender actions in complete contrast with his passionate kisses. He can feel her pulling him closer, and if he were human she would have already sent him tumbling back onto the bed with her.

She clings to him, fingers digging into the sinewy muscles of his back and her nails possibly leaving deep scratches in his leather jacket as she fights to keep herself upright. Her body is trembling, so consumed with her desire for him. She's not so sure she wants to draw this out anymore; his lips are wreaking utter havoc on her senses. One hand slides down the back of her neck; he presses gently into the small of her back to hold her steady. She moans softly, feeling his tongue brush over her lips as he sucks the lower one into his mouth. She opens her mouth, lets him in without hesitation, and nearly comes undone at the taste of him. Her only regret is that they didn't reach this point sooner; that she hadn't pushed him away. She's not pushing him away anymore; she's pulling him as close as she possibly can, and it's not enough. She's writhing against him, pushing her breasts shamelessly into his hard chest as she tilts her head to the side to allow him to deepen their kiss. His fingers are trailing softly over her back in a lover's caress, his lips slowing against hers; his passionate kiss becomes one of languorous exploration. She shivers in his arms, whimpering softly as the heat builds between her thighs.

The sweet scent of her arousal perfumes the air around them; it's intoxicating and he can almost taste it. He wants nothing more than to do just that; to throw her legs over his shoulders and bury his tongue deep inside her, just as he's dreamed about for so long. He fights the temptation; there's something he needs to know first, and he'll be damned if he's about to allow yet another woman to use him simply for her pleasure and discard him once she's had her fill. If she wants this, wants _him_, then she has to tell him; tonight. He pulls away from her, smirking slightly at the way her lips are still moving.

She's kissing and nipping at the air, and she frowns when she realizes he's not just teasing her; he's stopped kissing her and touching her altogether. Her eyes flutter open, hazy with lust, and she realizes what he wants without him having to say a word.

"Damon," she whispers, brushing her fingertips over his cheek. He takes her hand in his, presses his lips to her palm; his eyes are intense as they search hers.

"Elena," he rasps. "I…" He hesitates, not sure he can say it again and not have her say it back; he never gave her the chance before, had been so afraid of her response that he'd wiped her memory of it. He realizes now what a mistake that had been.

"I know," she sighs, leaning in to place the softest kiss against his lips. "It's okay, I promise I'll say it back…but I need to hear it again."

He furrows his brow, confused by her admission. "How?" he asks.

She would roll her eyes if this moment wasn't so important for the both of them. "Do you really think I wouldn't go to sleep without having vervain in my system, after everything that happened?" she asks pointedly.

He frowns. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why did you let me go?" she counters.

He sighs; his voice breaking like it did that night. "Because I don't deserve you," he explains, turning his head away slightly to avoid the look she's giving him. "My brother does," he mumbles the next part.

She's still resisting the urge to roll her eyes or slap some sense into him. "Damon," she sighs, frustrated with his martyr act. "This whole _"Stefan is the better brother"_ thing has to stop! Neither one of you is better than the other, neither one of you deserves to have me in your life any less than the other, and neither one of you gets to decide who is better for me; that's _my_ decision," she says firmly.

"You've made your decision?" he asks, suddenly hopeful.

"I made it a long time ago," she confirms. "You were just too busy trying to erase my memory to notice." She's a little bitter that he tried to make her forget something so important, but then after the way she pushed him away she can't really blame him for it; he felt he was being selfish to tell her, thinking she was still in love with his brother.

"I'm not a saint, Elena. And I can't change who I am, not even for you," Damon warns, giving her one last out. As much as he wants her, he can't let her think he'll ever be anything other than what he is now; and he's terrified that he'll hurt her again, though he'll do his damndest not to. But he realizes now that it has to be _her_ choice; he just hopes she won't regret it.

"I don't _want_ you to," she says vehemently. "I just don't want you snacking on the town or throwing those little sorority sex parties again, and Rose would have to find a new place to crash because the idea of you and her together is probably even more revolting than your flings with Caroline, Matt's mom, Katherine _and_ Isobel combined."

He smirks at that; she's so obviously jealous, it's adorable. "Is there a woman on this planet who you _wouldn't _object to me sleeping with?" he teases. He can't help it, it's just how they are; they could be having a moment and then the next minute they're back to the playful banter.

She licks her lips nervously. "Me," she whispers almost quiet enough that he wouldn't be able to hear her.

He stares at her, at a loss for words again; they're back in the moment, ice blue eyes meeting chocolate brown. Her lips are slightly parted, she's looking up at him in silent anticipation; he can hear her heart beating hard against her chest. "Say it again," she whispers, her eyes pleading with him.

He's nervous; saying it the first time, when he thought she wouldn't remember, had been hard enough. Never in his life have three simple words meant so much and he knows this is it; the point of no return. Once he says them, he won't be able to take them back and pretend nothing has changed between them; and he doesn't think he has the strength to try to compel her again, nor does he want to. Because even though he is beyond terrified of his feelings for her and what it means for them, he's so tired of being alone. He's tired of spending every night dreaming of her, wondering what could be, waking up in disappointment when he realizes she's not lying next to him (other than last night, when he allowed himself that small luxury), he's tired of hiding how he feels about her, and most of all he's tired of trying to numb those feelings with alcohol and meaningless sex. He could have her, he knows this; all he has to do is say those three simple words and she'll say them back. He could _finally_ get the girl.

"Damon?" she whispers, snapping him out of his thoughts. She's vulnerable; he can tell by the way she's biting her lower lip. She doesn't think he's going to tell her, he can see it in her hurt expression. He can't stand seeing her like this; he hates himself for hurting her again, cursing himself for his cowardice. Honestly, what is he so afraid of anyway? She already told him that she feels the same way, after all, she's made her choice; she's already his. What does he have to lose?

"I love you, Elena," he whispers.

She shocks them both with her response; her arms wrap around him in a tight embrace and she lets out a choked sound, as if she's crying. Oh hell, he hadn't meant to make her cry! But no, these aren't tears of sadness or regret; he can feel her lips against his neck and they're curved in a smile. She places a soft kiss just below his ear, a whispered "thank you," her only verbal response to his confession. He's about to voice his disappointment that she didn't say it back, but then her lips are on his again and she's kissing him so passionately, practically trying to climb right into his lap. He can't help but react to her; he's very aware of her naked body pressing against him, and of the trail of wetness she's leaving on the front of his dark jeans. He's both thankful and annoyed that he's still fully clothed while she's completely naked; he's not sure if he'd be able to take his time with her, otherwise.

Her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, that sweet smile still on her kiss-swollen lips, and then she whispers back the words he's waited over a century to hear. "I love you too."

If asked later, he wouldn't be able to recall which one of them initiated their next kiss, only that it was the most intense one they'd shared thus far; the result of months of pent up sexual frustration, longing, denied emotions and, most importantly, _love_. Nothing else matters to either of them right now; the roof could cave in, a battle could rage outside her window, Hell itself could open up beneath the bed and they would neither notice, nor care.

His hands are in her hair; stroking her back; pulling her closer, it feels as if the heart beating rapidly against his chest is his as well as hers. She's pushing his jacket off his shoulders, wanting to feel more of him; he helps her remove it, but as soon as those little hands move down to the button of his jeans, he pulls it back up, placing it safely by his neck so she can't tempt him.

"Don't rush it," he rasps against her lips. He lowers her down to the bed, finding their current position with her straddling him a little too distracting; he wants to savor every sensation, every little sound he's determined she'll make. Nobody else will hear her; he already checked. Jenna is off with Ric and Jeremy has his headphones on with the music blaring, so he won't have to listen to his sister screaming in pleasure all night; and Damon's going to do everything in his power to make her scream.

She whines softly, mourning the loss of his lips against hers as he pulls back from the kiss. He nuzzles into her neck, sending shivers up her spine as he finds that one sensitive spot and traces over it with little swirls of his tongue. She gasps as his fingers trail down one side of her neck, over her collar bone, then down the side of her chest and waist to rest at her hip before sliding back up again teasingly; he's not touching her where she wants him, and it's frustrating the hell out of her. Her body is practically humming with the sensations he's evoking in her, and he hasn't even begun his exploration of her yet.

His lips are brushing softly against her throat as she arches up against him, her nipples rubbing over his shirt with delicious friction; she can feel the heat of his skin through the thin material and she whines with her need. She wants it off him; it's not fair that she's naked and he's fully clothed. Her fingers are practically tearing at the fabric; she doesn't care if this happens to be one of his favorite shirts or not. He sits up and her gaze falls to the rippling muscles of his chest and stomach; and he lifts his shirt and slips it off with such practiced skill that she has to wonder if he was ever a stripper, or if he would mind doing a little strip-tease for her sometime. Then she stops thinking; his lips are on hers again, his hands are in her hair, and he's lowering her back down to the mattress. He slips one leg between hers and she cries out as he presses into the apex of her thighs.

Her scent is so strong, her soft cries are ringing in his ears, and she's grinding against his thigh to the point that his jeans are soaked through with her juices. He could take her right now, and she would be more than ready for him, but he won't; she deserves so much more than that. He's going to give her as much pleasure as he can before he sates his own lust; it's the least he can do for the woman he loves.

He slides his hand down her thigh, stroking the soft, silky skin; he can feel it quivering slightly with each soft brush of his fingertips. She wiggles her hips as he traces the crease of her thigh, moving slowly inward. She moans against his mouth, spreading her legs further apart as he finally strokes between her soft folds. He finds her sweet spot and circles it slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure. He can hear her heart racing as she begins to come undone; her head thrashes on the pillow and she's biting into his lip as the tremors hit her full force. He refuses to pull his hand away from her, even as her nails claw at his arm; he won't be satisfied that she's had enough until she's screaming.

A few more strokes against her sensitive flesh and she's writhing beneath him, tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes as the pressure keeps building; she's not sure she can take anymore, but he's not giving her a choice. She tries to pull away; it's too much, too fast, but impossibly she's climbing higher. Her whole body is vibrating and she's screaming his name so loud that she's afraid everyone within a five-block radius can hear her.

She's gasping for air and he regrettably pulls away from her lips so she can breathe; he's placing soft open-mouthed kisses over her chest, gently tugging one of her pebbled nipples between his lips. Her hands instantly tangle in his hair as she arches into him, holding him to her. Having effectively distracted her, he moves his hand between her thighs again, this time slipping one finger inside, curling it to tickle against her G-spot.

"Damon," she cries, her thighs trembling, her back arching off the bed as his thumb finds her little bundle of nerves once more; she's still so sensitive that the slightest brush of his fingertips is her undoing.

He draws back, licking her sweet nectar off his fingers; the taste is exquisite, better than he ever imagined. His lips trail down to her taut stomach; he can feel the soft little tremors as his tongue traces over the creases of her thighs. He hooks her legs over his shoulders, opening her up to his hungry mouth. He lets out a low moan, closing his eyes in pleasure as he takes his first real taste of her; she's sweeter than anything he's ever tasted, and he can't seem to get enough of her. She's writhing beneath him, her thighs gripping and convulsing around him, and yet he can't bring himself to pull away from her just yet. She cries out, shouting his name repeatedly, each time the pitch is a little higher; it's a song she's singing just for him.

She reaches the high note as his lips close around that tight little bud and he flicks his tongue over it like the flickering of a flame; and she's definitely feeling hot right now, practically scorching. Her nails have become claws as she digs her fingers into his scalp in an effort to both push him away from her sensitive flesh and pull him closer; she can't decide what she wants more at the moment. She's spiraling; it's getting harder to breathe and the coil inside her has been wound so tight. The fire is licking up her thighs, spreading quickly through her veins until she's covered in a thin sheen of sweat; little beads of moisture trickle down her thighs. She can't stand it anymore; she needs to feel him inside her. Somehow she manages to get the words out between choked sobs of pleasure.

"No more…need you…" she whines, pulling at him with the little bit of strength she has left. Her legs feel heavy again as he slowly brings them down to rest on the bed. She can hear the popping of the metal button, the scraping of his zipper as he pulls it down. Through heavy lashes, she catches a glimpse of him as he removes his jeans; she's not surprised that he's not wearing anything else. He's hovering over her again; she reaches out to grip his hard length, marveling at how perfect it feels in her hand. He closes his eyes and lets out a small growl of pleasure as she strokes him up and down; she grips him firmly in her hand as she teases his swollen head against her slick entrance. She gasps as he pushes his hips slowly forward; he's stretching her now, the tip of him is pressing inside her and she's arching up against his chest, wanting to feel more of him.

He sinks into her warm embrace; inch by tantalizing inch. He holds her hips steady, slides back, pushes forward, going a little deeper with each thrust of his hips; the pace is agonizingly slow and he can feel her walls clenching around him as he pulls back again. Her thighs are vibrating against his hips as she wraps her legs around his waist; her entire body is quivering. He captures her lips in another passionate kiss; his tongue slips into her mouth at the same moment that he thrusts his hips forward, burying himself completely inside her.

She's in awe of how perfectly he fills her; as if he was molded for her alone. Every stroke, every thrust, every soft touch of his lips sends an electric current of pleasure through her. She shivers as his hands come up to tangle in her hair, his lips are trailing down her neck, and his movements inside her are becoming sharper, faster; she bucks her hips to meet his, slamming against him to hit that spot deep inside her. She lets out a sharp cry as a strong jolt of pleasure shoots up her spine and does it again; she's lost in the sensations, going wild beneath him as she pursues that sensation with reckless abandon.

Damon sits up slightly, letting her control the pace now. He grabs a pillow and lifts her up just enough to slide it under her hips; she's still slamming against him, her body trembling in her efforts. She's close; he can already feel her clenching around him. His fingers slide down to rub her hot button, sending her crashing over the edge.

She's still seeing stars as he thrusts into her at a maddening pace; her body is on fire and she can barely speak a coherent sentence.

"Mo…ahhh…fast…faaaassstt…soooo g…g…god…yessss…" she cries out in sharp yelps each time he slams into her. "Hard….er…fas…sss…ter…more," she gasps.

She's clawing at the sheets again, and though he's doing his best to give her everything he has, she's insatiable in her need for him; she may be the first woman who has ever tested his control, and he's not sure he'll be able to draw this out much longer. He presses his thumb against her sweet spot, determined to bring her with him because he's reached the limit of his control.

"Elena, look at me," he rasps. Her eyes flutter open to meet his; they're almost black with her passion as he continues to stroke her, bringing her higher.

"I love you," he whispers.

It's too much; the combination of his words and the delicious pleasure he's giving her finally send her crashing over the edge. She reaches for him, needing to feel every inch of his body pressing down on her. He's lying fully against her, driving his hips forward and rubbing against her clit with each deep thrust; she can feel him beginning to shake with the effort and knows he's close. He's nuzzling into her neck, whispering words of love; the words spill from her lips without her realizing that she's voicing her deepest, most secret thoughts.

"Bite…" she whispers.

Damon pulls back from her neck to stare at her in awe; he never expected her to ask such a thing. He thinks he may have imagined her saying it, having dreamt of this for so long.

"Do it…" she moans softly, tilting her head to the side. There's no mistaking her request.

"You're sure?" he asks. If his heart still beat, it would be pounding at this moment.

"I love you," she whispers. "I'm yours."

He gathers her into his arms; his lips trail down her neck, he can already feel her pulse racing as his tongue traces over her veins in preparation.

"I love you," he sighs, purring softly as he nuzzles her neck. His hips are moving faster again, bringing them both back up to the heights of pleasure. She barely feels the pinpricks of his fangs as they sink into her skin; she's falling off the cliff, drowning in a haze of pure ecstasy.

The taste of her blood is as exquisite as the rest of her body; he can feel her every emotion as he drinks in her essence. If he had any doubts about the sincerity of her love, they're gone now; he can feel her love in the very deepest parts of his soul (he's finally convinced he _does_ have one; it was simply hiding, waiting for her to find it).

"Damon…" she screams. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard; _his_ name on _her _lips as he brings her to a spectacular climax. He's not far behind; he held out as long as he could, but now it's becoming too much. Her perfect warmth, her sweet blood, her cries of his name all pull him toward Nirvana.

He drives into her harder, faster; she's gasping for breath, she's crying out in rapture as he sends her spiraling one last time before pouring everything he has into her. She's still tingling, feeling the slight pressure of his mouth on her neck. His movements inside her have stilled, but the shocks of pleasure are still coming full-force. She's dimly aware of his fangs withdrawing from her; he's licking the tiny puncture marks softly now, causing more shivers to run up the back of her neck.

For a few minutes it feels as if time has stopped; they simply hold each other, stroking and kissing each other lazily. Her fingers are tracing the perfect contours of his back and shoulders as he nuzzles her; eventually their lips meet again for a tender kiss. She can feel him shifting inside her and she squeezes her muscles around him; she doesn't want him to leave her just yet. She knows that once he does, the spell will be broken and they'll have to face the reality of what's happened between them; saying "I love you" doesn't magically fix everything, no matter how bad she wishes it could. At some point, they will have to decide what that means, and where to go from here. She can't help but laugh in her mind over the irony of the situation; by finally giving in to her desire, she's plagued by yet another series of thoughts that promise to give her no rest and keep her up all night. She can't help but wonder how their relationship will survive when the odds are against them; she's not ready to turn for him, since the last thing she would ever want would to remain a teenager for all eternity. Perhaps in a few years, when she's older…if she survives…if he still wants her…

His hand strokes the side of her face as he places a soft kiss to her lips before withdrawing from her. She mourns the loss of him inside her, but then he gathers her into his arms and draws the blankets up over them both.

"I love you, Elena," he whispers against her hair, kissing the top of her head.

She snuggles into him, her back is against his chest and she can feel him nuzzling into her neck again, placing soft kisses over it. "I love you too, Damon," she sighs as his arms envelop her.

It's in this moment as she's drifting off to sleep in his loving embrace that her mind echoes one last thought; regardless of whether she has anymore restless nights, she won't be spending them alone.

The End

Author's Note: Whew! I'm finally finished. Sorry it took so long, but today sort of went a little differently than I'd originally planned. You see, instead of working on the rest of my fic during a _decent_ time of day, I spent pretty much the entire day in bed with my husband—and not in the way I would have liked to have spent it either. While the sheets _were_ scorching, it was only due to my poor honey's ridiculously high fever, and the poor darling was shivering so much that I had no choice but to just lay there in bed with him in an attempt to keep him warm. Consequently, I spent the whole day and most of the evening taking care of him and that left very little time for myself. By the time he finally went back to bed (after having only been out of it long enough to eat a bowl of chicken soup and ¾ of a grilled cheese sandwich) it was 10 at night and I was wide awake. I still am, but I figure since it's almost 6am I should post this and get to bed in case my honey gets cold again.

Okay, be good and review now! I'll be checking my BlackBerry when I wake up again, and I'll be really sad if I only have one or two reviews when I _know_ I have a ton of readers who've put this on their alerts and favorites lists ;) If you're one of them, please be nice and feed the musie, b/c my honey goes back to school this week and that means I'll have more time to write again…


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